Through the valleys rising fog
Steaming woods and moss
Standing on the mountain top
Like a summit cross

You see a figure raise its claws
Like a bird of prey
People must have pissed him off
He's in a bad mood indeed!

What is his concern?
What is his name?
Shrubbery the warlock
Is mad again

They leave their hideous waste around
They crap in forest and stream
Bite the feeding hands of mother earth
But they will run and scream!

You say you have no time for this
Well, this time ignorance's no bliss!
I'll turn your gold into rats
And turn your shoes into beechnuts so that wild pigs come!